Midnight Lovers
by Jill2
Summary: Set within "Forever", Angel goes to see Buffy # 10 in the "Midnight"-series


FIC: Midnight Lovers (1/1)   
Author: Jill  
Disclaimer: let me check ... nope, still don't own them. Sigh! Parts of this is   
taken from the Buffy-season-5 episode "Forever" and from the   
Angel-season-2-episode "Epiphany".  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: B/A (strong in this part!), and the usual pairings from the show   
Distribution: my site (http://www.never-ending-love.de), Land of Denial, if you   
have any of my stories, take it; anybody else tell me where it goes  
Summary: Set within "Forever" and after "Epiphany". Angel goes to Sunnydale to be by Buffy's side. This is set into canon, in an attempt to make the whole series more B/A-friendly. But don't expect too many smootchies!   
Spoilers: the whole B/A-canon to be sure, follows loosely "Midnight Angel",  
"Midnight Whispers", "Midnight Rainbow", "Midnight Hour", "Midnight Memory",   
"Midnight Letter", "Midnight Encounters", and "Midnight Eyes. You should probably read it to understand this. And you should have seen season 5/2 or you won't know what they're talking about.  
Feedback: oh yes, please  
Dedication: this goes to my mom, because she is the best   
  
Note 1: Okay, I made another big jump up to "Forever" with this. But I think the   
way Angel was in "Midnight Eyes" was showing perfectly his state of mind, and I   
just can't see him opening up to Buffy during his final downfall. He's a very   
closed up character, and he wouldn't like to drag her in. I had one feedback   
saying this was more about Buffy's problems, but I think that's just the way   
Angel would act. He would always put her problems before his own, protecting her   
from having to deal with his.   
  
Note 2: This is - hopefully - the part you've all been waiting for. Hope you're   
going to like it. I left some things between the lines, but it's not difficult to figure out. So, enjoy!  
  
  
  
Angel had never dreaded something as much as he dreaded this. But he was   
anticipating it at the same time. It was as if he was divided into two halves,   
which was, thinking about it literally, exactly what he was. A demon with a human   
soul  
  
The whole way from L.A. to Sunnydale he had tried to imagine what he would say to her. How he would greet her.  
  
Greet her. Jesus!  
  
Joyce was dead. Nothing else was important anymore. God, she must be in pain. How   
did she stand it, he wondered? Was it really important what he said? Wasn't it   
more important that he came? That she could feel he'd be there for her. Holding   
her. Catching her if she needed it. If she wanted him to.   
  
God, what if she didn't want him there?  
  
He thought about the letter he'd found a week ago, after his epiphany. It had   
been still in his pocket, almost forgotten, but then he'd reached into it and   
found it. It had caused an epiphany of another kind. Completely different, more   
private, nothing he'd shared with his friends.  
  
Friends.  
  
It was a wonder he still had them. That they hadn't completely given up on him.   
He slightly shook his head, thinking about it. It was like a miracle. And then   
there was the other miracle, Lorne had revealed to him, two days ago. He'd wanted to rush to Buffy there and then, but one of Cordy's visions had struck her, and Angel, determined not to let them down again, had been tied up in L.A. Up to today.   
  
When they'd come back this morning, Cordelia had found Willow's e-mail. And he'd   
been forced to wait. Wesley was still not quite well, and Cordelia had the   
feeling she wouldn't be welcome, maybe even disturbing the funeral, and so Angel   
had gone on his own, which meant he had to wait until sundown.  
  
But now he was here, he thought, parking his car and getting out.   
  
He thought about the letter again, Buffy had written to him, when he approached   
the cemetery. A letter she obviously had never intended for him to see. What did   
it mean, he wondered? Had she given up on him after finishing it? Please no, he   
prayed silently. Not now, not when ...  
  
But this wasn't about him. This was about Buffy. She's just lost her mother, he   
reminded himself. A person, who was her anchor. Someone she could always count   
on. And now Joyce was gone. A person, who, like him, had always put Buffy's   
happiness before her own. There had been misunderstandings between he and Joyce,   
but they had also shared a deep love for a brave, young woman, who could entrance the world with just a smile.  
  
And now Joyce was gone. Dead. She was lying in a dark, lonely grave. But at least her soul was gone to a better place, where there was no fear and pain, where you were happy and well. He hadn't had that luck. He could still remember the moment he'd woken up in his own grave, the moment of shock, before he'd realised he was meant to find his way back to the surface.  
  
And then he saw her. She was standing right in front of a fresh grave. Joyce's   
grave. And his heart went out for her. He wanted to rush to her side. Hold her.   
Tell her that he'd be there for her. Always. But he wasn't bold enough. There was too much between them. They way she had acted in L.A., the way he'd acted at his recent visit.   
  
And there was the guilt he carried for being so obsessed with Darla that he never even knew that Joyce had been operated with a brain tumor, that Buffy had gone through hell, alone. That she had to be strong. For Dawn. That   
there had been nobody she could lean on. He knew she wouldn't lean on her   
friends, used to be the strong amongst them.  
  
Never taking his eyes from her, he tentatively stepped closer, and only when he   
was right beside her, he felt her stiffen for a moment, then relax when she'd   
obviously realised who it was. And it made him warm. "I'm sorry," he whispered,   
his eyes resting on her profile, taking in the sadness that was sketched on her   
face. "I couldn't come sooner."  
  
She didn't look up at him, but he saw her nod, and then he felt her hand slipping into his, squeezing it, and he closed his cold fingers around her colder ones. They weren't warm as usual, indicating that she obviously had been out here for a long time. And without speaking a word they were just standing together.   
  
*  
  
It was quiet in the cemetery. Nothing moved. Even the vampires seemed to give it   
a rest tonight, maybe sensing that the slayer was occupied and wouldn't come out   
and play. Angel liked to think that, although, of course, he knew better.  
  
Buffy's head was lying at his shoulder, she had her legs curled up underneath   
her, they were sitting on the ground, their backs at a tree, Joyce's grave in   
front of them. From the moment he'd stepped at her side, there was a closeness   
between them, they hadn't experienced for a long time. Forgotten was the agony of the last weeks. No explanations were needed, or apologies. Nothing was important anymore, but being together, being close.  
  
She sighed slightly, "The funeral was ... it was brutal, but it's tomorrow that   
I'm worried about."  
  
"What's tomorrow?," he asked.  
  
"That's exactly what I don't know. Up until now, I ... I've had a road map.   
Things to do every minute, having to do with Mom."  
  
"Tomorrow the stuff of everyday living resumes."  
  
"And everybody expects me to know how to do it, because," her voice turned   
sarcastic, "I'm so strong."  
  
"You just need some time," he replied softly, "I'm sure everybody understands   
that."  
  
She slightly shook her head at his shoulder, "Time's not the issue. I can stick   
wood in vampires ... but Mom was the strong one in real life. She always knew how to make things better ... just what to say. A little bit like you." The ghost of a smile appeared on her lips, but was quickly gone again.  
  
"Yeah," Angel said taking her hand in his. It was warmer now, and he was glad,   
"You'll find your way. I mean, not all at once, but ..."  
  
She shook her head again, "I don't know. I keep thinking about it ... when I   
found her. If I had just gotten there ten minutes earlier ..."  
  
"You said they told you it wouldn't have made a difference," he said, recalling   
her words from earlier.   
  
"They said *probably* ... it wouldn't have made a difference. The exact thing   
they said was *probably*. I haven't told that to anyone."  
  
But she'd told him, and a warmth settled inside of him, making him feel good.   
"Doesn't make it your fault," he told her, "You couldn't have done anything   
different."  
  
She sighed a little bit annoyed, "I didn't even start CPR-"  
  
"I couldn't, even if I tried," he cut in, squeezing her hand.  
  
She looked up at him, shook her head, "Yeah, well. You're a vampire. I'm not.   
Only when they told me ... on the phone ... I fell apart. That's how good I am at being a grownup."  
  
"Buffy-"  
  
"And it'd be okay if it was just I had to worry about. But Dawn..."  
  
"Look," he interrupted her, "It's okay. I know you don't feel like it now, but   
you are strong, Buffy. You're gonna figure this out. And you have people to help   
you. You don't have to do this alone." You've got me, if you want me, he added   
silently.  
  
Suddenly frowning, she raised her head and looked at the sky, "It's gonna be   
light soon."  
  
"I can stay in town as long as you want me," he offered.  
  
She sighed, leaned her head back at his shoulder, "How's forever," she said then, "Does forever work for you?"  
  
She sighed again, turned her head up to look at him. And there was so much   
sadness in her eyes, so much loneliness, it tore him apart. She must have seen   
the expression on his face, because she smiled at him apologetically, "That's a   
bad idea. I'm seriously needy right now."  
  
He reached out, touched her cheek with his fingertips, "Let me worry about the   
neediness. I can handle it."  
  
The look she gave him, made him feel eight feet high. He saw the sadness again,   
the loneliness, but there was love, and trust, and ... hope? And then their lips   
met, softly at first, tentatively. Not long ago they had kissed. But it was   
nothing compared to this. This time it was sweet, the feelings deep.   
  
Soon her hands came up, her lips searching him more greedy, her tongue probing   
for entry, he gave her instantly. He pulled her towards him, enjoying the feeling of her body melting into his.   
  
She pulled back then, panting slightly, cast her eyes down, "I told you," she   
said, and he sighed, "You better go."  
  
He sighed again, "I'm sorry."  
  
"No," she replied firmly, "I'm so grateful that you came, Angel. I didn't think I was gonna be able to make it through the night."  
  
"I'm glad," he said softly, "But that's ... that's not what I meant."  
  
Her expression turned speculative, "Not?"  
  
"No," he gave her a slight smile, touched her cheek again, tracing the line of   
her brow, then trailing down to run his thumb over her lips. "No," he repeated.   
"A ... lot ... was going on in my life lately. I wasn't myself all the time."  
  
She grimaced, "Uh ... I kinda noticed. You were ... different, last time you   
came."  
  
"Yeah," he admitted remorsefully. "I will tell you about it, but it can wait."  
  
"You mean ... about Darla ... and stuff," she asked, her eyes huge.  
  
"That too," he said, his forefinger now travelling over nose back up to the other eyebrow. "Do you want me to stay, Buffy?"  
  
"Angel," she sighed, "I told you. That might not be the best-"  
  
"Do you want me to?," he asked again, cutting her off in mid-sentence. His voice had changed, as had his eyes. They were intense, and she felt as if they were burning into her. Reaching inside, right to her soul.  
  
"Yes," she said then, smiling at him. "More than anything." She swallowed,   
"You're good for me. I never feel I have to be strong with you. I can just let   
go. Knowing that you're going to catch me."  
  
"I love you, Buffy," he said suddenly, his voice gentle.  
  
She gasped, stared at him, "Wha- what?," she stammered.  
  
"I love you," he repeated simply.  
  
"What brought this on," she inquired.   
  
"I had an epiphany," he answered.  
  
"A, what?"  
  
"An epiphany. It's kind of when you're on the wrong road and just in time you   
find the right turn."  
  
"Oh," she said simply, then smiled, "I like your epiphany. And I love you too."   
There was nothing left in him of the angry, disillusioned man, who'd come to take of Drusilla only weeks ago. His eyes were warm, and full of love. Whatever an epiphany was, it had to be a good thing.  
  
"I know," he smiled, let his fingers fall from her face, and closed them around   
her fragile shoulders. "There's something, I need to tell you. Actually there are many things we need to talk about-"  
  
"You already said that. Was it ... bad?"  
  
"Yeah. That too. But it's not important. It can wait. But this can't. Lorne, a   
friend of mine, in L.A., he's actually a demon, but a good one, and ... Never   
mind. He's able to read souls. Tells you what's going on inside of you. Sometimes he helps you. And I let him read mine," his eyes grew intense, piercing into hers, "because of all the stuff that was recently happening in my life. So he did. Read my soul, I mean. And ... it turned out that somehow my soul is mine. I'm not cursed anymore. The soul belongs to me."  
  
She could only stare at him, not able to digest what he was telling her, the   
shock too deep to understand his words. But when they sunk in, her eyes grew   
moist. "What?," she breathed incredulously.   
  
He just nodded in response.  
  
"Is it really true?"  
  
"Yes," he confirmed.  
  
"And this is certain?," she asked, suddenly excited. "You're absolutely sure that your soul is yours in a forever-kind-of-way and not in a   
you-aren't-allowed-to-be-happy kind?"  
  
"Absolutely certain."  
  
"Oh, Angel," she whispered, throwing her arms around him, her eyes sinking into   
his. A tear made its way from her eye down her cheek, leaving a wet trail. But   
Buffy didn't care. She didn't blink to get rid of the other tears forming in her   
eyes. They were happy tears. Not tears of grief. Not tears of sadness. Tears of   
happiness, and she couldn't remember when she'd one of those for the last time.  
  
He pulled her close, held her, his gaze intense, her eyes brimming with tears,   
shining with love. "I love you," he whispered again, before he kissed her.   
Softly, tenderly, lovingly. Their tears melting together, they were tasting the   
salt on their lips. Her arms pulled him closer, and soon the kiss was threatening to spiral out of control, and they pulled away, Buffy panting heavily.   
  
"This is ...," she looked around, "the wrong place."  
  
"Yeah," he agreed, looked at the sky, "plus-"  
  
"-the light factor."  
  
"Uh-huh," he nodded. "But where-"  
  
"The mansion," she cut him off, then smiled a bit sheepishly, "Nobody lives   
there. I kinda ... go there ... sometimes."  
  
He looked at her for a long moment, then turned slightly, and held out a hand,   
"Let's go," he said, and without hesitation her hand found his.  
  
*  
  
"So what exactly happened to your soul?," Buffy asked, looking at him.  
  
"I have no idea. I can only guess. It might have been the Powers. You know The   
Powers That Be. Up there," he looked at the ceiling, then shrugged, gazing back   
at her, "But I honestly don't care. All I care is the result."  
  
She nodded, sighed, "Yeah. I know what you mean. And when did it happen?"  
  
"We're not completely clear about that," he said. "But no more than 72 hours ago.   
I don't know how Lorne knows that, but he did. When I ... uh ... sang ... he said   
it couldn't have been more than 48 hours."  
  
"Wow," she said in awe, then frowned, "Did you just say you ... sang?"  
  
"Uhm ... yeah," he admitted, glad he couldn't blush.   
  
She couldn't help but giggle. "Angel sings," she spoke more to herself. "I can't   
believe it."  
  
"He can only read souls when you sing," he explains. "So ... there's no way   
around it. We all sang. Wesley. Cordelia. Gunn."  
  
"I see," she still grinned, but leaned towards him and kissed his nose.  
  
"I met Riley," he said suddenly, taking her hand, playing with her fingers.  
  
"You ... did?," she looked at him cautiously. "How?"  
  
"He was in L.A., after ... you know."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Yeah. He was pretty drunk. We didn't exactly exchange pleasantries," he chuckled slightly, grew serious again, "But he," he turned, reached into the pocket of his coat, and removed a crumpled piece of paper, "gave me this." He handed it to her, and after looking at it, she gasped. "It opened my eyes," he admitted. "About many things, but especially I realised you were right. None of us knows what's going to happen tomorrow. I wanted to go to you, the moment I finished reading it. But then a case came up, and ... And then Lorne told me about my soul. But then I heard ... about your mom. I wasn't quite sure, if ..."  
  
"I understand," she nodded, tears gathering again in her beautiful eyes. She   
handed the letter back to him, "It was the best thing that could happen to me,"   
she told him, then pointed at the letter, "And Riley gave you this?"  
  
"Yeah," he confirmed. "From the state it was in, I suppose he got it from-"  
  
"-my wastebasket," she told him. "I ... thought there was no sense in sending   
it." She leaned to him again, and they kissed, "Glad I was wrong," she whispered, giving him another, sweet kiss.  
  
"He was pretty drunk that night," he told her.  
  
She frowned slightly, looked away for a moment, then back at him, "I ... I know,   
that ... that I let him ... down. Kind of. I mean, he ... he was my boyfriend.   
And then my mom got ill and I ...I shut him out." She looked down, ashamed. "I   
never gave him the feeling that I needed him. You know, for slaying and those   
things."  
  
Angel's voice was very gentle, "Buffy," he put his hand under her chin, to make   
her look at him. "That's not true. It's not your fault that he's a selfish and   
insensitive bastard." He couldn't help it, but in the end he growled and his eyes flashed amber for a moment.   
  
Buffy tried a smile, but her voice shook slightly, "Didn't you say something like he was a good guy, just recently?"  
  
"That was then," he said firmly, kissing her, then looked into her eyes, "He was   
still your boyfriend. I was your friend. I had to be supportive."  
  
An involuntary laughter burst from her throat, freeing her, making her wish she   
could fly and show him how good she felt. How good it felt to have him close   
again. When he looked at her quizzically, she smiled, "You're very sweet, Angel.   
There's no doubt. You must love me. Otherwise you couldn't be so supportive.   
Nobody has ever been with me the way you are. Nobody."  
  
He growled again, "That has nothing to do with me loving you. I mean, I love you, very much, in fact." She laughed again, and his heart swelled at the sound. He had to smile as well. He rubbed the back of his neck, looked a little bit   
embarrassed. "That's pretty obvious, huh?"  
  
She giggled, reached out and stroked his cheek, "Well, regarding the fact that   
we're lying naked," she looked at his open shirt, which was the only clothing any of them wore, and amended, "almost naked, on the dirty floor of this mansion..."  
  
"On my duster."  
  
"On your duster," she agreed.  
  
He chuckled. "Yeah."  
  
"Has to be a vampire thing, you know, going earthly and all," Buffy joked.  
  
"I'd rather say it's a slayer thing. I always preferred a soft bed."  
  
"Yeah, I remember. I mean, the bed in your old apartment, it was," she blushed,   
"very soft."  
  
He sighed, "Buffy-"  
  
"I love you, Angel," she interrupted him, " I never stopped."  
  
"I didn't either," he replied.  
  
"I know," she beamed. His head lowered, and their lips met. The kiss was sweet   
and gentle. Loving. Buffy sighed into his mouth. God, it had been so long. A   
lifetime ago. It was as if she was suddenly set free. Again she wished she could   
fly.   
  
Angel pulled her close until her breasts were pressing against his sculptured   
chest, and she felt his erection pressing in her abdomen. She laughed slightly   
into his mouth. Who needed to fly, she thought, if you could have this?  
  
*  
  
"He was letting himself getting sucked by vampire whores," she was saying an hour later, her head resting against his chest, her fingers tracing his muscles.  
  
"He, what?," Angel growled, for a short, insane moment regretting he hadn't   
ripped Riley apart that night in L.A.  
  
"Yeah. Doesn't sound healthy, huh? And I didn't have a clue. But Spike-"  
  
"Buffy," Angel interrupted, "You can't trust Spike, he would-"  
  
She held up a hand to stop him, "No. I mean, yeah, I know that. I don't trust   
Spike. I'd never do that. But I saw it. I saw it with my own two eyes. Spike just brought me to the house. And I saw Riley. And before you say something, I know he didn't do it out of the goodness of his own heart. He hates Riley, always hated him. But maybe I needed to see it. And-," she stopped, seeing Angel frowning at her. "What?"  
  
"Spike," he said, "I don't like this." He shook his head. "This goes far beyond   
obsession, Buffy. It's almost like," he shook his head again, chuckling in   
disbelief. "I mean, just think about the show he pulled off when Dru came to   
Sunnydale. This is getting creepier and creepier. I could just stake him for   
good," he offered, "believe me, nothing would make me happier."  
  
She laughed, her breath tickling his chest, arousing him again. It seemed he   
would never tire wanting this woman. "It's sweet, but no thanks. The bright side   
of the story is that he tries to stay in my good graces by protecting Dawn. And   
with Glory still around, that's a good thing."  
  
He sighed, shifted a little, pulled her closer, "I should stay."  
  
"You can't," she reminded him gently. "You have work in L.A. Important work. You   
do good. You're needed."  
  
He chuckled slightly, "I'm not so sure about that. Cordelia is treating me like a bug right now. And Wes and Gunn ... they ... don't trust me."  
  
"They'll come around," she said, kissing his chest, making him groan, "You didn't really screw up. I mean, the lawyers were evil, right? And about burning Darla and Dru ... Well, let's just say, it wouldn't have cost me a second of sleep."  
  
"I love you," he whispered, kissing her skull.  
  
"Hey," she joked, "Didn't you say something about the need to be supportive. I'm   
your girlfriend. I have to be supportive." She paused for a moment, looked up at   
him, "I'm your girlfriend, right?"  
  
"I suppose so," he mumbled, his tongue tracing her earlobe.  
  
She moaned, arched her neck towards him, "Good."  
  
He sighed again, stopped, "Buffy, about Spike-"  
  
But he wasn't able to finish this thought, when Buffy suddenly leaned forward   
mirroring his actions by running her tongue over his right earlobe, making him   
hiss. "Why are we talking about Spike?," she asked. "I see more ... uh ... urgent matters," she looked pointedly at his erect penis, reached out and circled it, "at hand." He hissed again, his eyes rolling backward, he reached for her and pulled her above him, their lips meeting again.  
  
*  
  
"So we agree," Buffy said, closing the fly of her pants, looking up at him then,   
"We're keeping this a secret, for now?"  
  
"If you want," he replied, slipping into his shoes. He sighed, "It might be wise. I don't know how Cordy and the guys would react knowing about ... us," he smiled.  
  
"Yeah. I know what you mean. Willow and Giles, and especially Xander would think   
I've gone nuts. Maybe even think it's some kind of ... repressing, you know.   
Which," she walked over to him, "it isn't." She looked at him seriously. "This is not a short time gig for me, Angel."  
  
"Neither for me," he assured her, pulled her in his arms, kissed her again. "I   
told you I love you. I shouldn't have left you, although I grew up a lot, which   
sounds pretty strange at my age," he chuckled slightly, kissed her nose, "But I   
did."  
  
"Yeah," she agreed, "me too." Suddenly she smiled, "Xander said the guy for me   
was out there, somewhere." She stepped on her toes and kissed him thoroughly. ""Hewas right," she whispered against his lips.  
  
He tightened his hold on her, "I wish you could stay."  
  
"Me too. But I need to check on Dawn. She's acting kinda weird. It's been hard   
enough for her to know she's the key, not real, you know. But since Mom died, she kind of freaked. She almost got bitten by a vampire because she was sneaking into the morgue. I never got to ask her why she went there."  
  
"To say goodbye?," he guessed.  
  
"Probably," she agreed, laying her head against his chest, taking a deep breath.   
"This feels so good," she said. "I wish we could stay like this forever."  
  
"I'm coming back. As soon as possible. I'm sure they'll understand. I could tell   
them something about you needing some help with the slaying."  
  
"Yeah, good idea. I can't leave at the moment. With Dawn, and Glory. It would   
look suspicious if I just disappeared. Besides, I couldn't leave. This Glory   
chick's not only strong. She's pretty ... insane, really."  
  
"I should stay," he said again. "I don't like you facing her alone."  
  
"I know," she replied softly. "But you have your own demons to fight. This ...   
god ... is my problem. Besides, I'm not alone. There's Xander, who ... doesn't   
really help. Not in the violent way at least. But Giles researches, and there's   
Tara and Willow. They're really powerful," she looked up, "Did I tell you that Willow just projected Glory somewhere else? That was ... really cool." She frowned a little, "Well if you forget all about Willow having a headache for, like, ever, afterwards. But it worked."  
  
He sighed, "And then there's Spike."  
  
She reached out, cupped his cheek, "Yeah. And Spike."  
  
"Buffy, be careful with him. He didn't travel with Angelus for nothing. He knows   
all about mind-games."  
  
"Yeah, but I'm the slayer, remember. Plus I've already met your evil self.   
Besides, after tonight, I'm mind-game-immune," she smiled and kissed him. "But,   
you don't have to worry, really. I told the others about his ... obsession. We   
even reversed the invitation into our house."  
  
"Good," he replied, kissing her forehead.  
  
"I really need to go now," she told him, slightly pulling back, then stepping on   
her toes again to kiss him. "Call me."  
  
"I will," he promised. "As soon as I'm in L.A. And I'll be back. Next week tops."  
  
"I'll wait for you," she said, backing away towards the doors, their fingers   
losing contact, their hands still outstretched. "I love you."  
  
"I love you too."  
  
She blew him another kiss, then she was gone.   
  
When Angel got into his car hours later, his heart was light and free, and his   
spirit up. He could face everything now. Even being treated like a bug. There was something to be said about epiphanies.  
  
END 


End file.
